One Of These Days It All Comes Together
by landsliding
Summary: They say when life gives you lemons, make lemonade.    Life gives him Rachel Berry, but he's not really sure what to make of it at all. He takes the easy way out and guesses he'll just let life do all of the making for him.


**ONE OF THESE DAYS IT ALL COMES TOGETHER**

…

They say when life gives you lemons, make lemonade.

Life gives him Rachel Berry, but he's not really sure what to make of it at all. He takes the easy way out and guesses he'll just let life do all of the making for him.

He joins the glee club and she's happy - _really_ happy. She tells him it's because they've finally found a male lead to keep up with her vocally but he knows it's not that at all. She's got some kind of silly little crush on him and really, she couldn't make it any more obvious than she does.

"You're better than all of them," she sneaks up on him while he's at his locker one afternoon. It's that silly little crush again, but he doesn't know how to respond so he shakes it off with a grin and a nod and deems himself forever grateful that his girlfriend shows up when she does and pulls him away from it all. She's got a sour look on her face and he doesn't know why she's got a real reason to be angry because it's just crazy little Rachel Berry who's talking to him; it's not like he'd ever go for someone like her anyway. _Especially_ not when he's got someone as good as Quinn Fabray. There's no beating _that_, he thinks.

She's got those crazy eyes when she's on stage singing with him, like the lyrics actually _mean_ something other than the silly little words they're asked to sing. He's told to hold her arm or twirl her and he doesn't complain, really, because it's just a stupid rehearsal. Whatever.

But then his girlfriend starts to notice things. "Hold her any closer and I'll _have_ to cut you off," she threatens, even if he knows she'll never _really _do anything about it.

He just shrugs and tells her he likes what he's doing. "The songs aren't half bad. You should join, too. I mean, we could always use more members."

Quinn just snickers, "Notice your use of the word 'we'. You speak as if you're some kind of team now."

"That's 'cuz we are." It's not like he's telling a lie.

"Groping the little dwarf when she sings _hardly_ makes you a team," she protests.

"And what would not helping her out make me?"

Quinn just shrugs.

"An asshole," he tells her. "I'm not gonna walk around being an asshole to her when all she's doing is being nice to me." Quinn looks offended but he's not done, slamming the door to his locker and facing her now. "Maybe you should try that sometime; being nice."

"I still think you should start being an asshole to her," Quinn says. "Let the little dwarf know you're not available. You seem to be leaving that part out in all your stupid little conversations about that stupid little club."

"We... we talk about other things," he responds quickly.

"Like?" Quinn asks, brows arched.

"Life," is all he says, gripping a strap on his backpack and walking toward the choir room.

…

He's stupid and she just offers him a box of tissues, an organic juice box and a chair at the vanity in her bedroom for an hour and a half on a Sunday afternoon.

"My therapist always tells me talking helps," she offers. "Just let it all out on me; all of it."

He'd feel super guilty laying it all out on her when she really had no part in it, for one, and then he thinks he hears something about a therapist but takes it back because only insane people go to therapy. "...Therapy?" It comes out just like that.

"Self-esteem issues," she says with a shrug. "I suffer a lot with my image. When you're bullied as much as I was - _still am_ - therapy is the least of your troubles. It's actually quite comforting."

Rachel talks really fast and it's nothing like a conversation with Quinn, but that's over now because as much as he doesn't want to think about it, she's carrying Noah Puckerman's baby so he might as well let Noah Puckerman have her, too.

"Well, I'm still super pissed about Puck and Quinn and that stupid baby," he groans. "I mean, it's one thing to be a cheater, but it's another thing to be a liar, right? She... she made me believe that was _my_ baby, Rachel. It hurt."

"I could imagine," she stands from the ledge of her bed, flattening out the hem of her checkered skirt as she walks closer to the chair he's sitting in at her vanity. "I'm sorry she hurt you that way, Finn. No one deserves to be hurt like that," she's got her right hand on his shoulder blade now, and even as awkward as it might be for him, he doesn't move it because moving it would make him a total asshole when all she's doing is being nice.

Instead, he stands up from the chair, looks to the alarm clock sitting on her night table and says something about being late for dinner.

"But it's four o'clock," she protests, gripping his forearm with her hand. "You seriously eat dinner at four o'clock?"

He shakes his head, "I've gotta get home. I've got lots of thinking to do."

She nods understandingly, letting off a little smile as he grips the knob on her door. "It was nice talking to you, Finn. Anytime you need someone to vent to, you know where to find me."

All he does then is leans forward, pecks her cheeks with his lips, leaving him clumsy and her flustered, pink cheeks and all. "See you, Rach."

Her dads give him a little nod on the way out, exclaiming how nice it is to see their little girl _finally_ make a friend. He can't help but frown a little at that. What's taking everyone else so long to realize Rachel's not all that bad? Better yet, what took _him_ so long?

…

He doesn't know _exactly_ when he feels like an asshole. Maybe it's around the time she comes to his game wearing that flashy shirt with the words 'Team Finn' across it, chanting loudly in the audience about just how great of a player her boyfriend is. Maybe it's around the time he breaks up with her because he'd rather live it up like a rockstar on the inside than let himself ever fall for a girl like Rachel Berry in _and_ out. Maybe it's around the time she tells him there's someone else anyway; that St. James asshole he already wants to find and punch right in the face.

"Life goes on," his mom rubs his back, pours warm milk into a cup for him and sits down beside him in the dimmed kitchen. "Rachel will come to her senses one day, I know it. But maybe she's just waiting for _you_ to come to _your _senses first."

He sleeps on a full stomach and those thoughts that night and really, ends up not falling asleep at all.

It's the night he starts his diary, even if he'll call it a journal so he doesn't get ragged on about turning into a total chick or anything like that.

He fills a page with words he never guesses to be capable of writing, shuts it tight at five in the morning and tucks it right under his pillowcase proudly.

…

They start the summer off as a couple - a _real_ couple.

She kisses him goodnight after he walks with her in the park on the first night of summer. It starts to rain so he rubs the small of her back, apologizes for not having an umbrella on him and tells her she better get inside.

"Wait," she pauses, pressing her lips together tightly as she lets the rain streak down her face, soaking it all over. "Goodnight, Finn," she leans forward, stands up on her toes and presses her hot lips to his. "I had a _really_ good time tonight."

"Lookin' forward to more," is all he says before he makes a run for his car, lifting his hands over his head like a hood.

He drives away and looks back as he does. She's sitting in the window snuggling one of her cats to her chest as she does a little wave.

He could _totally _get used to this.

…

It's the middle of August and they're almost together two months when Rachel asks him why he never flirts with her.

"I mean," she starts, ignoring his fiddling with the end of her skirt as they both lay stretched across a towel in her backyard, "you tell me I'm pretty or that my hair coincidentally smells like berries but you never _really _flirt with me. Why?"

"'Dunno," he shrugs. "I guess I always thought it was kind of gross, at least the way Puckerman does it."

"You're not Puckerman," she says slowly, guiding her fingers up and down the buttons of his polo. "You're _so_ much better." She leans across his chest, one elbow holding her weight up on the towel as she gives him a small peck on the mouth. "And you taste better than Puckerman too."

He cringes, trying to forget that Puck and Rachel kissed before and returns her sweet kiss gently, her body still sprawled out almost on top of his. "Is that flirting?"

She giggles, her tongue in between her teeth as she gives off a small nod, her face just inches from his. "I've been flirting with you since I've met you. Bad for the both of us, considering you had Quinn and all, but I couldn't help myself."

"I can't help myself now," he says with a smirk, running his finger up and down the gold star pendant that hangs off of her neck. "You're just _so _hot."

"You'll get better at it," she says with an exaggerated laugh.

Even when she's poking fun at him, he's pretty sure this is when he likes them the most. He _always _likes being Finn when she's being Rachel, sure, but it's days like these that remind him about life's unexpected choices, he thinks. Rachel's just one of them, he knows now, and he remembers to ponder more on the thought as soon as she leaves in that journal of his he stuck under his pillowcase months ago.

…

They get into a fight at the end of August, right before the start of junior year.

She cries into a pillow in his bedroom for twenty minutes into she finally speaks. "You're my boyfriend, right?"

"...Yeah," he's confused, really, because she just showed up at his house two hours before she was supposed to for dinner, cried in his doorway and wouldn't even let him carry her up to his room or anything. "What's this about? Did... did someone tell you I wasn't?"

She lets out another sob, sits up from the pillow she's crying into and tucks her hair behind her ear, "Why is your relationship status on Facebook single then?"

Seriously? _That's _what she's worried about? "I haven't checked that stupid thing all summer."

She arches her brow and as easy as it usually is for him to tell whether she's happy or she's mad or she's just plain moody, he's got nothing today.

"I've been busy," he tells her. "Between working at Sheets 'n Things and football camp and you I... I haven't exactly had the time to update that crap."

"It isn't crap," is all she says. "It's a virtual symbol of our union, Finn. If I gladly let my friends on Facebook know I was taken a day after it happened, why couldn't you?"

"Rach..."

"Are you ashamed of me?" She's crying again, but this time, he walks over to the bed she's sprawled out on, draping one arm across her back and one arm under her knees, gathering her body up against his chest. "Is that a no?" She says in between sobs.

"Babe, who would be ashamed of someone as awesome as you?" He says with a laugh, lifting up his index finger to wipe the tears that still surround her heavy eyelids. "You made my summer like, a thousand percent less boring than it would've been if the only thing I had to look forward to were those stupid shifts at Sheets 'n Things."

"You think so?"

"Yeah," he says, lifting her out of his grip and onto the bed so she's sitting upward. "I love you, Rach."

There's another sob and he starts to panic because, really, he _can't _let this get all messed up now.

"I love you too," she wipes at her eyelids once more, then leans her body forward and envelopes him in a hug. "Thanks for this summer."

"Hey," he protests, "don't say it like we won't have like, a ton more."

"My instinct told me you'd call it quits the moment we returned to school, actually," she admits.

"Are... are you serious?"

"Quite," she says. "I figured the moment you put that uniform back on you'd prefer to parade around school with a hot cheerleader. The last thing you'll need to avoid being tormented is walking around with me on your arm."

"Don't you get it, Rach? If I didn't want to parade around school with you on my arm or wherever, I would've ended this thing like, a _long_ time before. Hell, I probably wouldn't have even said 'I love you'."

"But you meant that?" She says, fiddling with the ends of her hair. "Like, you _really_ meant that?"

"I _really_ meant that, munchkin," he says with a chuckle, lifting his finger to the tip of her nose and tapping it. He's squatting on the floor by his bed where she sits, but he lifts his body up and makes his way to his desk, sitting down in the chair and turning his computer on.

"What are you even doing?" She laughs, crossing her arms below her chest. "This is no time for online matches of Call of Duty or whatever it is you and Puckerman are obsessed over this week."

"I'm actually on Facebook," he says, pivoting with the chair so he's facing her. "I've got a relationship status to change."

Her face glows, he laughs, and then she reaches down into the pocket of her cardigan and pulls out something small and golden. "In that case, I guess this'll be a good time to put on that 'Finn' necklace I ordered for myself last week."

"You bought yourself a necklace with _my_ name on it?"

"I splurged," she says. "14 karat gold and all. I couldn't help it, though. It was just so there and so perfect, y'know? I mean, if you mind, I can -"

"I don't mind," he turns away from the computer to face her once more, delivering a coy laugh. "I think it's kinda cute. Y'know, you're the only girl I know who'd do something like that; order her boyfriends' name on a necklace for herself. That's actually kind of _awesome_. Wish I would've thought of it first."

His girlfriend wins at life now, he thinks. She looks pretty hot with his name around her neck like that, he won't lie. It's cool when they show his mom and she says it's something all of the cute couples on TV are doing now. He never thought of them as 'cute' or anything before, but he looks at his beaming girlfriend as she sits at the dinner table fiddling with the golden chain around her neck and wonders why he didn't start associating them with the word 'cute' sooner.

When they go out to pick up some groceries for his mom on a Sunday, the little old lady at the checkout counter asks Rachel why her parents would name her Finn.

"That's an awful name for a girl as cute as you," she says, almost disgusted. Finn doesn't know whether to be offended that the little old lady starts to rag on his name or laugh in hysterics when he pictures Rachel's name being Finn.

Rachel ducks her head and lets out a small giggle. "It's actually my boyfriend's name, ma'am."

"Well that's better," she sighs in relief, handing them two bags full of groceries.

It _is_ better - so much better.

…

Summer turns to fall and fall they do. It's over before it begins, really, so he pulls out his journal on a December afternoon and writes down three words: cheater, liar, lover. He doesn't know what they mean, really, but his assignment in English is to write down three words and analyze them until he can't analyze them anymore. He analyzes those three words for a minute until he plops himself down onto his bed, fiddles with his phone in his hands and brings himself to remove her number from it. _S'not like I'll be using it anyway_, he thinks as he shuts his phone with an elongated sigh.

But he gets a call at five thirty exactly, and he doesn't have to have her number stored in his phone to know it's her; her digits are already more than familiar to him.

"Rachel," he breathes, "don't call me again. Please."

"You're kidding, right?" She sounds offended and well, she _totally_ shouldn't. She's a cheater and she's a liar and she's Noah Puckerman's lover now, apparently. He should be the one offended.

He sighs, "Wish I was."

...

"Berry still pinin' for you?"

"W'do'u want, Lopez?" He's at his locker and the last time this whole locker thing happened between the both of them, he lost his v-card _and_ Rachel's trust. It wasn't exactly the best package in the long run when he looks back at it.

"Forget her," she says, waving her hand in the air. "The little hobbit cheats on you with Puckerman and expects you to forgive her? If I were in your position, I'd tell her to fuck off, just like that. Put the bitch in her place. You could do like, _so_ much better."

He actually believes it for a minute; he believes he could do like, _so_ much better than crazy little Rachel Berry. Santana's _gotta_ be right, he tells himself right then and there. "Yeah," he agrees. "You're totally right."

"When am I not?" And she digs in the pocket of her leather jacket, pulls out a little card and tells him to stick out his palm. "It's a classier motel. _And_ it's got room service."

He rips up the card into tiny little pieces and shoves it in the trash before she even walks away. "No," he says. "I'm saving it."

"You're already a sinner," she says with a snicker. "What's so wrong in losing it again and again and again and –"

"The second time I do it it'll be with the right person."

…

She wears his star pendant throughout the entire months of February and March and when she thinks he isn't looking, she takes it in between her fingers and just fiddles with it.

He thinks it's nice; she's wearing that star pendant all because he believes in her.

But he still likes the 'Finn' necklace just a little bit more, he knows.

...

"Come on over," he speaks quietly into the phone because the five-year-old brats are sprawled out across the living room floor, their Beauty and the Beast tape playing faintly in the background. "I could use some help."

He's shocked she agrees but she shows up twenty minutes later, a stack of coloring books and crayons in hand, along with a small envelope.

"The coloring books are for the girls," she breathes. "The letter is for you."

"Thanks." He rubs his hands together, tucks the envelope into the pocket of his vest and points to the living room where the little girls are sleeping. "They're cute, right? Brats, sure, but cute."

"Who would've guessed you like kids?" She says, unwrapping the plaid patterned scarf on her neck.

"I do," he says. "I want three, actually."

"Really?" She asks, almost intrigued. "I do, too. Three would be nice. Or like, twelve. It's a nice, even number and with the amount of musicals on Broadway these days, I've got enough names lined up for three generations."

He laughs, "Leave it to you to name our kid Evita."

She laughs, then quivers her jaw a little. "You... you said _our_ kid. Not that I'd be objected to having children with you or anything, but..."

"But I broke up with you," he says, his cheeks reddened as he clears his throat, his gaze shifting to the floor, "I know."

"Do you think about having kids with me?" She asks.

"Rachel..."

She shakes her head, "I won't say anything. I just... I want to make sure it's not only me. Finn, I loved you for a long, long time so of course thinking about our future was natural."

"How many kids did we have?" He's amused, really.

"Seven," she admits with a coy giggle. "One for every Von Trapp kid."

She's pushing it but he doesn't even mind because for a second, he can't even imagine a life making babies with anyone else but her.

She leaves an hour after she helps wake the girls up from their nap and give them a quick bath. He splashes her when she's holding one of the twins and she splashes him back, squealing as he takes soap bubbles resting on top of the water and throws them onto the top of her hair.

"Is that your girlfriend?" One of the twins sitting in Finn's lap in only a towel asks. "She's so pretty, like Belle!"

"She's cute, right?"

She lifts her hands into the tub and into the soapy water, flicking some at him.

He doesn't know if that's for not correcting the little girl about Rachel not being his girlfriend or just calling her 'cute' out of everything else he could've called her but he doesn't really mind. Not tonight, anyway.

…

He forgets about the letter in the pocket of his vest until the day his mom's overloading on laundry and talks about some crinkled paper she found in the wash.

"The writing on the envelope's smudged," she says, "but it looks like it says Finn's name."

He holds his hand out, "Let me take it."

He walks all the way up to his room before tearing at the envelope.

_Finn, _

_I hope you know that it's okay to be with someone else. It's been a long, long time and we're not fixing anything. I've always held this hope that one day it'd be me and you again, but since it isn't going anywhere, I'm just asking that you'll still continue to be my friend no matter what you or I decide to do with our future. I think I'm moving out to New York, Finn. Just please be there for me, please. I had to write this to you in a letter because I couldn't stand to see your reaction in person. Again, I hope you'll be there for me and that you'll let me be there for you, too._

_Rachel_

He doesn't even throw a dirty t-shirt at Kurt like he usually would when he plops himself down on his bed and pesters him for an extra buck or two because he has a total shopping addiction or something.

"Are you crying?" Kurt asks, holding his hand out and touching it to Finn's shaky kneecap.

"I think so." He doesn't even bother covering it up.

…

He's always wanted to be that guy who could say he stayed with his high school girlfriend through college and beyond. If Mr. Schuester did it, he could too, right? He and Rachel talked about it once or twice; him following her wherever she chose to go and doing his best to keep his grades up to do so. They talked about getting a little apartment together after graduation and Rachel insisted it _must_ be in New York. He grinned, took her hand and said it was cool as long as they had a mini-fridge in the bathroom like those cool apartments on TV. He _totally _got to third base that day.

But he can't say any of those things anymore because she's going all the way to Juilliard and he's in lame ass Ohio State and well, she won't even look at him anymore, really.

"I just can't believe you're dating _him_ now." He can't even look her in the eyes because he's not so sure he knows who she is anymore. "C'mon, Rach, you can do like, _so_ much better than Sam."

She's folding her arms beneath her chest, only lifting them to tuck a strand of loose hair behind her ear. "By better I'm assuming you mean yourself," she rolls her eyes. "I'm going to Juilliard and he'll be going to NYU and unlike you, he's willing to be with someone despite their flaws."

"I didn't break up with you because of your flaws," he hisses. "I broke up with you because you cheated on me with Puckerman."

"Would this be a good time to bring up the fact that Quinn_ also_ cheated on you with Puckerman?" She snaps and he cringes because, really, he'd rather not be reminded of Quinn when all he _really _wants to talk about is Rachel. "You _are_ aware of that, aren't you? I mean, yes, I cheated, but I didn't lie to you about claiming my unborn child as yours or anything."

He just arches a brow and lets his whole entire sophomore year flash by in his head for a second.

"I felt stupid for cheating on you, Finn," she admits, guilt-ridden. "I... I love you and everything, but you aren't willing to believe me."

Did she just say 'love'? Whatever, he's given up. "We're almost off to college," he says, leaned up against his locker. "W'do'u say about trying this thing one more time?"

She looks over her shoulder and down the hall, then, "I say I've got a boyfriend to meet up with before first period. Let's... let's do this another time."

"Are you freaking kidding me?" He spits. "When are you planning on doing this again? When you're in New York and I'm stuck in this cow town?"

"You could've been the one coming with me," she doesn't look back when she talks, just lets out a huff and races on to Sam's locker.

But she's right. She's so, _so_ right. Damn.

…

They win Nationals senior year but his stomach is in knots even after he's getting all the praise and more on New Directions' rendition of _Open Arms_.

"He was great, wasn't he?" Rachel passes by, her hand intertwined with Sam's as she brushes Finn on the forearm. "You did beautifully," she talks just to him this time, giving him a little wink, her chocolate eye sparkling.

"You too," he responds weakly, scrunching his nose as he gives her a small smile.

He heads back up to the hotel room he's sharing with Puck and Sam and tells Artie, Brittany, Puck, Quinn and Santana he'll meet them in a few for dinner.

When he opens the door to what he thinks'll be his empty hotel room, he hears the sound of a zipper and fidgets as he swipes his room key. "Hello?"

"It's just me," Rachel's at the foot of Sam's bed, a duffel bag plopped on top as she fiddles with the zipper. "Oh, hi Finn. I... I was expecting Sam, but..."

"Sam lost his room key," he tells her. "He's gettin' a new one down at the reception desk with Mike. He'll probably be up in a few."

"Or not," Rachel says, nonchalant. "I was actually looking for him so I could talk to him."

"New York stuff?" Finn asks.

"Actually, I needed to break up with him in person. I… I was going to do it yesterday but a text message won't cut it," she admits, crossing her arms under her chest as she sits down on the ledge of the bed, pushing the duffel bag aside.

"Wait," he breathes, walking over to the bed and standing over her. "You're… you're serious about that?"

She nods, "Completely serious. He's just not someone I'd see myself with in college, y'know? Sam's lovely, he is, but I think I need to find myself and, well, college is the time for that, so…"

He nods, sticks his hands inside of his pockets and lets out a sigh, heading for the door. "I'll see you around, Rach."

"Wait," she sprints off of the bed and over to him. He's confused because he thought she had to go find Sam, but she's standing on her tiptoes and she kisses him on the lips just like that. It's not long but it's not short either. It's Rachel – so, _so_ Rachel. She tastes like strawberry lemonade and it's really good and he wishes he'd be free to do that like, whenever.

But he isn't so he ducks his head, clears his throat and just mumbles that he'll see her around one more time as she closes the room door behind him.

…

She's packing her last and final boxes for New York when he walks inside her bedroom with Kurt following behind. It's been a long time, he knows, because the walls look a different shade of yellow and she's moved some furniture around and it doesn't help that there're like, a million different boxes on the floor. It smells the same though, like a mix of her berry-flavored shampoo and lemons. He takes a whiff when he walks over to her, squats down on the floor and closes the lid on a box she's struggling with.

She jumps, "Finn, you scared me!" She turns around now, holding her arms out and enveloping him in a hug.

"You _always_ scare me," he says softly, looking straight into her eyes.

"What… w'do'u mean?" She's sealing a box beside her but she's looking at him now.

"Don't do it," he says coolly. "Don't move out to New York."

"Too late," she breathes. "I've already planned to dorm on campus. And I'll be working too, I'm sure of it."

"Then take me with you," he pleas, resting his arm on one of the boxes she's already taped up.

"You'll be in Ohio State and I'll be in Juilliard," she tells him. "Our paths just won't cross anymore, Finn. But like I said in that letter – you _did_ read that letter, I hope – we'll still be friends."

"Yeah," he stands up now. "You leave tomorrow, right?"

"Monday morning," she answers. "Five am."

"I guess it's goodbye," she's standing up too, arching her brow as he speaks, holding his arms out. "Kick ass out there in the Big Apple for me."

She's enveloped in his hug now and she stays there for a minute. "I'll write to you," she promises, looking up to him with a small grin. "And once I get my webcam set up, you better too. Don't miss me too much, okay?"

_That's impossible_, he thinks. "Yeah, I'll try," he laughs, releasing her from his grip and holding onto the small of her back. "Can I… can I say it one last time?"

"Let me," she breathes, shutting her eyelids for a moment and grabbing onto the top of his hand with her fingers. "I love you."

"Stay sweet, Rachel," he tells her. "Don't let New York change you."

She giggles, squatting down to the floor once more as she fiddles with a roll of duct tape.

"I love you too," is the last thing he says to her before he grabs the handle to the door of the bedroom he'll be standing in for probably the last time ever.

…

He calls her on Skype the day he sets his own webcam up and waits for a response. Nothing.

…

Day two and she still won't take his calls, even through a stupid webcam he never even wanted in the first place. _She's probably busy_, he thinks to himself. _New York's a busy city_.

…

It's the tenth day and he _knows_ dorms don't take ten days to set up, that's for sure.

He and his roommate get their dorm set up by the second day and they're so bored they crash a party on campus and even steal a few beers from the cooler.

He hooks up with a junior but he's too shitfaced to ask for her name. When she's sprawled out across the bed beside him and mutters, "My name is Rachel," with a slur to her voice, all he can do is throw his head into his pillow and mumble a bunch of shit not even he can understand at this point.

"Sounds like you're reliving the past hour _over_ and _over_ again," she says with a laugh, kicking her legs up.

…

The first time he hears from her is in December, right around her birthday.

"Hey stranger," he speaks into the phone, digging into a bowl of popcorn as him and his roommate keep a close eye on the game. "How's New York treatin' you?"

"I miss you," is the first thing she says.

"I… I miss you too?" It's more of a question because, well, she's totally not making this 'missing him' thing all that known, evidently.

"I would've called but I've just been _so_ busy," she says. "Between juggling classes and rehearsals and… Oh! Finn! Did I tell you we've got an extensive theatre program here? We're performing a rendition of _Funny Girl_ and I've been cast as Fanny Brice and it's just perfect… perfect!"

"I guess I'll add that to the list of things I've gotta do when I'm down there," he says with a laugh.

"Are… are you serious? _You're_ coming down to New York?" She sounds shocked and he drowns her out with his laughter because, really, he doesn't care if she hasn't tried to contact him in like, three months because he _totally_ missed that voice.

"Kurt and I are meeting up down there around our break," he tells her. "We figured we'd check out some places, maybe a few shows…"

"I've got a break too!" She says, a little too excitedly. "Maybe I could stay with you two? I mean, catching up would be nice, wouldn't it?"

"Wouldn't be a hotel room without Rachel Berry in it," he says with a chuckle. "Get some rest. It's like, super late and you're always busy, so…"

He hangs up with her twenty-seven minutes later because his roommates shushing him.

"It's a touchdown and you missed it, asshole!" He screams from the couch, throwing pieces of popcorn up in the air as a celebratory kind of thing or whatever. "Too busy talkin' to the wife?"

"Girlfriend," he says it without thinking and doesn't even have the energy to go back and correct himself. He's like, _way_ too excited for New York.

…

He asks her to be his girlfriend when they're in New York City on Christmas Eve, the tree in Rockefeller Center their backdrop as Kurt takes what he likes to call their 'reunion picture'.

"Merry Christmas, you two!" He squeezes them in for a hug, the three of their heads pressed together. "I just _knew_ it'd happen like this! Finn and I have been extensively planning for months, only we lost hope somewhere in the middle when you were in refusal of taking his calls, but –"

"_Kurt_," Finn hisses," you can shut up now."

Rachel's beside him, digging her nails into his arm as she pulls him tightly against her through the crowd in the streets. "It smells like Christmas," she turns to Finn and nuzzles her nose against his vest.

"You smell like Rachel," he says. "So you're still using that berry shampoo?"

"Always."

…

Skype is their thing now, he thinks.

When he's not studying, his first instinct was to get on Skype.

"Get on Skype and I'll help you study while we talk," she persuades him. "Please?"

He can't resist her, she knows that by now. "Yeah, sure."

He gets an A on his midterm paper and logs on to Skype right after class and thanks her virtually.

"You're a kickass Skype tutor," he laughs.

"You're just a kickass boyfriend."

He loves it when she curses. It's really hot and makes him wish they weren't separated by this damn webcam.

"It's almost summer," she tells him. "Then we'll be able to see each other like, _everyday_."

"Wow," he says, eyes bulged.

"I think it's time we took a further step in our relationship, don't you think?" He's confused but he's got fifteen more minutes left before his roommate comes back from his girlfriend's dorm so he lets her finish. "Finn, I'm ready to lose my virginity to you," she tells him. "I… I'm scared to no end because, well, I've never done anything like that before, but… but if I have to lose it to one person in the world I'd like for that one person to be you."

"Deal," he nods and she blows him a kiss from the other side of the screen. It's all kinds of cute and _totally_ turns him on yet reminds him just why he loves her; totally the kind of thing his roommate would make fun of him for if he weren't over in his girlfriend's dorm.

"Great."

He can't _wait_ for summer.

…

She flies back home to Lima when she's a senior in college for Mike and Tina's wedding.

Finn picks her up from the airport on a rainy Sunday afternoon, grabbing her suitcase with his hands when she's done tackling him with a hug.

"Finn," she sighs, pressing her cheek to his forearm, "we're getting older."

"That's what happens, Rach," he says with a laugh, tugging her suitcase with one hand and holding the other out so she grabs it with hers. "People get older."

"Mike and Tina are getting _married_," she says, almost like it's a crime or something. "I can't believe Mike and Tina are getting _married_."

"I can't believe we're still together after all this time," he says, squeezing her hand a little harder as they sit down at a bench next to the coffee shop in the airport.

"Good things happen to people who wait," she says with a little giggle.

"Wait a little longer," he tells her. "I'm just a college kid. I can't afford a ring."

She starts to pull his chin to her lips, biting his bottom lip with her teeth and giving him little kisses along his neck.

He reminds her they're in a public airport.

"I don't care," she mumbles, her head buried in the cove of his neck. "I _never_ get to see you."

"It'll change." That's like, a _total_ promise, he knows.

…

They move into a little studio apartment in the city when they're 23. She cries because the tiles in the bathroom are falling apart and the view from the window is crappy and definitely not what she's been expecting. He spends some extra cash he gets from starting his job down at the fire department on new tiles and a painting of flowers; flowers he could swear are Rachel's favorites.

"What… what are those?" She's reading a magazine at the kitchen table when he walks in with a bag from The Home Depot.

"Let's make this apartment into a home," he says, walking over to the kitchen table and throwing the bag on top of it. "I picked up some tiles because we can't have a bathroom that's like, falling apart or whatever. I also got this painting and even though I've got like, no clue what it is, we can hang it up by that window so whenever you think of the crappy view, you can just look over at this because, well, it's not so crappy."

She jumps up from her seat, throws herself into his arms and fiddles with the golden 'Finn' chain dangling from her neck. "Have I told you that you're the best lately?"

"Actually, no…" He says, looking down at her as he holds her waist with his hands.

"I'm pretty sure Hallmark makes cards for that," she says jokingly. "Now let's go set up this home!"

He gives her a piggyback to the bathroom and she complains about the color of the tiles until he cements one down to the wall.

"You have good taste," she says, nodding her head in approval as she looks to the fresh teal colored tile glued onto her bathroom wall.

"I know," he nods, "I picked you, remember?"

…

She's on Skype with someone when he pulls open the front door, kicking off his work boots and plopping himself down on the couch.

"Hey, babe," he says, letting out a sigh as he lifts his feet up onto the table in the living room. "Babe?"

"Hi! Sorry," she turns around in her chair for a moment, partially closing the screen of her laptop so he can't see who she's talking with, he knows. "I was on Skype with Sam."

What the _hell_ is she doing talking to _him_ anyway? "Oh, uh… how's he doing?"

"Great," she tells him. "He's thinking of coming down to New York for a weekend soon. I told him we'd be more than happy to have him here."

"You're… you're not serious, are you?"

"Of course I am, Finn," she laughs. "He's new to the area and I certainly wouldn't let him stay alone in a hotel."

"So he's still single?"

"Very much," she nods, gripping the handle of the chair as she pivots back around to the computer, lifting the screen once more. "Sam? Sam, are you still there?"

_Right as things start to turn out right,_ he moans to himself, cracking open a soda can and sprawling himself out on the couch, trying not to look back to his girlfriend who's obviously more interested in some stupid Skype conversation than him anyway.

…

He knows how she gets when she's drunk, so he doesn't believe her when she comes home from the bar at around two am and tells him she had just an 'okay' time after a night with Sam and Puck and Quinn, who are all staying in town for the weekend.

"Nothing… nothing special," she's stuttering, throwing her body down on the living room couch as Finn grabs a blanket from the closet and drapes it over her. "Noah and Sam are outside with Quinn. She's… she's throwing up."

"So Puck and Quinn… they're… they're together?" It's not what he _really_ wants to know, but she's shitfaced and she'll speak of _anything_ at this point, so he might as well get it out of her while he can.

"It… it was like a double date," she nods, opening and closing her heavy eyelids about forty times as she curls up her body and nestles herself into the cushion of the couch. "It was _nice_."

"You've gotta be kidding me," he says, shaking his head as he heads for the door.

"Baby, come back," she calls out for him, twirling her dizzy head around so she's semi-facing him. "We talked about you, too. Noah said you must be _bad_ in bed but don't worry, I… I convinced him otherwise."

He shakes his head, grabbing his keys from the counter and fidgeting with the lock on their door.

"I love you!" She calls out when he's already out the door. "I _love_ you!"

He walks back into their apartment then, slamming the door behind him and throwing his body on the couch. "You told him I was good in bed?" He's enamoured, really.

"Better than he'll ever be," she says with a drunken giggle, kicking her feet off and throwing her legs across his body.

"Better than _Puck_?" Finn's only slept with two girls his entire life. Puck's like, the master.

"The _best_." She grabs his chin and tilts his face down until she reaches his forehead, giving him a small kiss.

"You taste like lemonade," he laughs.

"Yeah, Mike's Hard Lemonade," she answers. "Shit's real."

…

He's the absolute worst at picking out birthday presents and she reminds him of that like, everyday. She's twenty-four tomorrow and he doesn't see the big deal about it because, well, it's just another number, but she jumps around the kitchen and sings about being twenty-four like it's the most important thing in the world.

"I'm not good at buying presents," he runs his fingers through her bangs as they're laying on the couch watching TV. "I _suck_."

"I know," she says. "You're pretty horrible at it."

"But I did a pretty good job this year."

She laughs, eyebrows raised. "Did you?"

He kisses her neck and tells her she'll get her answer tomorrow.

She wakes up with a silver band with a small diamond on her finger and walks into the kitchen with a smug look across her face, only to find him flipping pancakes.

"Hi fiancée," she giggles as she skips over to the kitchen table, plopping herself down on a chair.

"I take it you got your present," he laughs, turning around as he holds his spatula in the air.

"You should be in charge of all of the gifts from now on," she says.

He's wearing his 'told you so' smirk and she's wearing a diamond band on her ring finger. It's all pretty great.

…

They agree not to make too much of a big deal out of their wedding, but he remembers he's marrying Rachel Berry and she remembers she _is_ Rachel Berry so yeah, it's a big deal.

"A horse drawn carriage," she scribbles a few words down on her own piece of paper when they meet up with the wedding planner. "And doves. Lots and lots of doves."

Finn tells her he's already made a casket for his wallet.

…

They end up having a small wedding in a park, her in a long white ensemble, covered with stitches of flowers and almost too tiny to see beads and he in a tux she picked out for him because he's never been one to dress.

Both of her dads walk her down the aisle and it's like nothing Finn's ever seen before; not in the little amount of weddings he's been to at least. It's beautiful and he feels himself cry before she even gets to the altar and he doesn't even mind when Puck calls him a pansy.

"A married pansy," Puck corrects himself.

Kurt's in the middle of a toast that seems to take about two hours so Rachel drags Finn's hand and pulls him into the hallway of the small little hall they have their repetition in.

"My name sounds good with yours already," she knows he's talking about the two hundred times Kurt chanted 'Rachel Hudson' back in the reception room and she just giggles, digging her nails deep into his hand as she swings it along with hers.

She cracks open a bottle of champagne sitting on top of a table in the hallway.

"What are you doing?"

"Having a little fun," she says. "People always say that once the wedding comes, it isn't so fun anymore. I'm just playing by the rules here."

"Hey," he tilts her chin up so she's looking at him, even if she's still holding onto her wine as if it's a child in a big New York City crowd. "We've got like, so much time and more for all of that fun stuff. Don't listen to those idiots."

"We'll still have fun?"

"'Course, munchkin," he plants his lips on hers, tugging at her bottom lip gently, and his face gets _super_ red when Kurt comes into the hallway and clears his throat, standing close to the two of them.

"C'mon, Mr. and Mrs. Hudson," he walks closer, grabbing the two of them by the wrists.

Finn just thinks it's super awesome that two people have that name now. It sounds fancy and he knows Rachel likes it too because her face is _totally_ just as red as his is.

"Yeah, Mrs. Hudson," he leans his head down by hers and nudges her in the side a little bit as they walk back into the reception.

His name sounds _so_ good with hers already; he's not sure he'll ever get sick of it.

…

"Do you ever miss high school?" She asks him when they're on the balcony of their apartment, sharing a bottle of wine they've just cracked open.

"Never," he laughs and sips at the same time. "Do you?"

"Sometimes," she admits. "Most of the time I'd just like to live it again because it was pretty horrible."

"We had some good times," he says. "Like, glee club was pretty much the most awesome part about it. It's how I met you," he says, clinking his wine glass with hers.

"I could've done without the bullying," she says. "Remember when you used to bully me? You'd throw eggs at me and you and your evil girlfriend would call me every single drag queen in the book from A-Z."

"I love you, Rachel." He feels super bad because here she is venting to him about how horrible her high school life was and there he is looking back and realizing he's the major cause of like, all her problems.

"Sure, now you do," she says, "but back then I was a nobody and admit it, even _you_ hated me."

"I didn't _hate_ you…"

"What changed your mind?" He likes it when she talks but he doesn't like it so much when she starts to ask him questions he can't answer for himself.

Then he remembers his journal. "I'll be right back."

He comes outside three minutes later with two filled-to-the-rim notebooks and plops them down on the little table in front of her.

"Rachel, meet my high school journal. Journal, that's my wife, Rachel," he says, flipping open to the first page. "I swear, babe, I jotted down everything I could in here for hours and hours. You take up like, half of this thing."

"You wrote about me?" She's laughing now, setting down her wine glass and hovering over the filled notebooks. "What'd you say?"

He flips to a page somewhere in the front. "I started liking you when you turned me down for Jesse."

"Let me see," she pulls it out of his hands, amused.

"I'm serious," he says. "My mom inspired this entire journal because she told me how life goes on even when the people you like don't go on with you. She told me that you'd come to your senses eventually and that maybe you were just waiting for _me_ to come to _my _senses first."

"You wrote this all down?"

He hovers over her and watches as she skims the pages of his journal. "Page seven."

She turns around in her chair, shuts the notebook and looks at him for a minute.

"What?"

"I just love you," she says, "that's all."

"Read page forty-one," he laughs. "It's a page full of love, I'm pretty sure."

He goes to sleep at ten o'clock because he's got an early shift down at the station. She stays up all night, sprawled across the area rug in their apartment bedroom, and reads every single page in his notebooks.

It's five am and his alarm clock is about to go off, so she reaches her hand over and shuts off the button before it rings. "Finn," she whispers, "_Finn_."

"Mm," he tosses onto his side, digging his head further into his pillow. "Rachel?"

"I read your journals," she says. "Every single page."

"Are you serious?"

She kisses his forehead. "Remind me why you're a firefighter again? You should've been a writer."

…

They don't talk about it much but when they do it's always a 'save it for later' kind of conversation.

They're 27 when Rachel brings home a bagful of pregnancy tests and darts into the bathroom.

She cries while she's waiting and he's not sure whether to be happy or sad for her so he just rubs the small of her back and tells her whatever happens that life'll go on.

It's positive and she's jumping into his arms but he puts her down almost immediately, removing his hands from around her waist.

"I'll hurt the baby."

She flicks him on the forehead, "You're gonna be the best daddy."

He orders a onesie online that night and when she tells him they're not even certain of the gender, he clicks one more and threatens to press 'order' again.

"Someone's excited," she says, hovering over him as he scrolls through an endless amount of onesies and booties and socks and strollers.

"Just happy," he tells her. "I'm happy that things worked out like this."

…

They say when life gives you lemons, make lemonade.

Life gives him Rachel Berry. Rachel Berry gives him a more-than-healthy baby boy on a summer afternoon they, with no hesitation, name Christopher, after his father of course. He knows exactly what to make of it because he's got a family now – a _real_ family. He knows he'll do all of the making with them from now on; with Rachel and with baby Chris, too.

…

A/N: This stemmed from a one-worded prompt featuring the word 'life' over at my LiveJournal. I've challenged myself to write fifty fics using fifty one-worded prompts and, well, this is my first! I'd love to hear your thoughts in a review!


End file.
